


a glimpse of love

by adamantine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Crimson Flower Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), just an emperor and her consort having a nice night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: [The] Adrestian emperor and Lysithea, her trusted officer, devoted the rest of their lives to Fodlan's rule. For her counsel in instituting class reforms and ensuring the independence of the people, Lysithea came to be known as the Wisdom of the Empire. The pair of talented women ushered Fodlan into a new age of innovation and prosperity.A peek at the lives of Edelgard and Lysithea in their paired ending.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	a glimpse of love

**Author's Note:**

> I recently replayed verdant wind on maddening and I was hit by the edelys feels. there's nothing like seeing an extremely tragic version of a ship to make you appreciate their happy version!

A gentle hand shakes Lysithea awake from where she’s fallen asleep at her desk.

“Lysithea, come to bed,” a soft voice says.

Lysithea groggily wipes the sleep from her eyes. Paperwork covers every corner of her desk, obscuring the opulence of its surface. Luckily, she didn’t fall asleep while writing again. She can never live down the time she did, waking up from an ill-timed nap with ink stains on her cheeks that Linhardt didn’t bother pointing out, leading her to her doom in the form of a giggling emperor that found the black smudges terribly amusing. Edelgard was so unable to stop her giggling that their meeting with the former Alliance lords had to be postponed.

Lysithea yawns and turns to find Edelgard clad in a deceptively simple white nightgown, holding a lantern in one hand. “What time is it?”

“Late enough,” Edelgard answers. Her shoulder-length brown hair is unadorned, missing it’s usual crown. The color of her hair still surprises Lysithea sometimes, so vibrant compared to the white it once was, but not as much as it surprises Lysithea when she looks into a mirror and sees a woman with dark red hair reflected back at her. The removal of their artificial crests did more than just return their stolen time: their natural hair colors began to grow again. Lysithea, keen to say goodbye to the reminder of past pain, gleefully sheered off her white hair, not caring if it left her with almost no hair at all. Hair was hair — it grew back eventually. Edelgard, ever vain about her hair, didn’t share in the sentiment. She let it grow out, brown hair bleeding into white, until it was long enough to cut away the white and leave what she considered an acceptable length of brown hair to style. Lysithea has to admit the resulting bob was quite fetching on Edelgard. Other must have agreed as it started a trend in the capital, leading to hordes of women cutting their hair to match the Emperor’s new style.

Lysithea stands and stretches her arms above her. “There’s so much to do,” she laments, glancing at her unfinished work. She rolls her head; her neck feels stiff. She’s thankful Edeglard woke her before that stiffness could set in. She’s getting too old to sleep in uncomfortable positions. _Too old_ — what a strange thought. “Sometimes I forget I’m not running out of time.” She doesn’t mean for the admission to sound so raw.

Lysithea tries to shy away but Edelgard doesn’t let her. She draws them together, resting her forehead against Lysithea’s. “I’ll just have to keep reminding you then.”

Lysithea feels a surge of affection for the remarkable woman before her. Without her, she would be lost.

Edelgard leads the way back to their chambers, her steps sure as she lights the halls with her lantern. The Imperial Palace is — when considering the many extensions that bleed into the city around it — significantly larger than the monastery at Garreg Mach. Much of it has been transformed under Edelgard’s rule. The harem was converted into a school for civil servants overseen by Ferdinand and Hubert; what were once luxurious apartments for the emperor’s courtesans and children are now classrooms open to those from all social statuses. The emperor’s private library is no more; it’s become a public facility. Linhardt has a full wing of the palace to do with as he pleases; as that’s mainly crest research Lysithea is a frequent visitor, possibly even more so than Linhardt himself. Lysithea could spend the whole day wandering the palace and not see the end of it.

With that in mind, relatively speaking, Lysithea’s office is a short walk to the imperial apartments. They don’t have to cross any courtyards or walk through bustling corridors. Still, it some time to make the journey. Lysithea takes the chance to admire how the dim light of Edelgard’s lantern casts her in an almost ethereal glow. In truth, there’s much to admire about Edelgard as she forges ahead. The straight line of her back as she walks proudly into the dark, the slight sway of her hips as she moves, the way her nightgown — made from a fine, light material designed for the hot summer nights of Enbarr — clings to her skin. She’s devastatingly beautiful. Lysithea wants to brush the hair away from Edelgard’s neck so she can press her lips to it. She would if they were alone but no matter how quiet and private the night feels Lysithea knows there are guards not far behind them, as there always are for the emperor and her consort.

All sense of tiredness is gone from Lysithea when they finally reach their rooms. The door to the veranda is open, letting in a cool ocean breeze the keeps their bedroom from feeling stuffy and overheated. Enbarr is a much warmer place than Lysithea is used to, especially in the summer. It doesn’t snow in Enbarr and rains can be worryingly infrequent. Droughts are a pervasive part of Enbarr’s history.

Edelgard leaves her satin slippers at the door and heads to her vanity. She hasn’t let up in her nightly routine of brushing her hair before bed despite the change in its length. Lysithea finds it charming to see her at it. It’s the only point of her appearance she frets over.

Lysithea makes quick work unlacing her boots before following through her own nightly routines. When she returns from her endeavors, clad in a lilac nightgown made from the same luxurious material as Edelgard’s white one, Edelgard is reading. A romance novel, Lysithea guesses based on the title. Edelgard is a devout fan; the lighter and sweeter the romance the better. She doesn’t like the tragic stories, the unrequited romances or the lovers pulled apart. Those she turns away. Lysithea doesn’t share in her taste — she prefers mysteries. Her favorite thing is to guess the culprit before they’re revealed. The best stories manage to surprise her while the clues in retrospect all fall into place.

“El,” Lysithea says as climbs into bed.

Edelgard doesn’t look up her book. “Hmm?”

“El.”

“Yes?”

“ _El_.” She is practically whining. It’s worth it though when her desperation catches Edelgard’s attention.

“Aren’t you tired?” Edelgard asks, one eyebrow raised.

Lysithea shakes her head. “Are you?”

The smile that breaks out on Edelgard's face is almost a smirk. She sets the book down on their bedside table with a quiet thump.

“ _Lysithea_.”

Oh, how Lysithea loves the way her name rolls off of Edelgard’s tongue, especially in the confines of their bedroom.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Lysithea says. She pushes aside the sheets to crawl across the bed and sit in Edelgard’s lap. Edelgard gladly receives her, pulling her in for a kiss immediately. She’s warm underneath Lysithea but Lysithea knows the heat between her legs isn’t from body heat — not literally at least.

Edelgard’s hands wander her waist as she intensifies their kiss. She bites Lysithea’s lower lip and Lysithea can’t help the small moan she lets out. Curse Edelgard for not playing fair. She knows all of Lysithea’s weak points. Lysithea draws back, pretending to catch her breath but really it’s the urge to hide face she’s overcome with.

“Have I mentioned how adorable you are?” Edelgard says sincerely, tucking a strand of Lysithea’s hair behind her ear.

Lysithea scowls. “Adorable? Is that really what you have to say to me after—after all that?”

“Why yes, I can still find you adorable even when you’re moaning in my lap. Even more so, really. Why do you ask?” She flashes Lysithea a wicked smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” Lysithea’s admonition would perhaps have more bite if she could actually look Edelgard in the eyes. Instead she stares out the veranda feeling horribly flustered from Edelgard’s words. She doesn’t want to be called _adorable_ in bed, she wants to be called — well, something else, or better yet nothing at all lest she expire from the embarrassment of hearing Edelgard say it.

“You’re always adorable to me.”

“Hmph.” How vexing. She pouts in annoyance but it’s short-lived as Edelgard easily kisses the pout right off of her.

Despite her saccharine words Edelgard’s kisses are filled with passion; she kisses Lysithea like she wants to devour her. It’s not surprising when her hands start wandering underneath Lysithea’s nightgown, but an inevitable destination.

Lysithea stops her and pulls away from their kiss. If Edelgard is disappointed she hides it well. She quirks her head as if to ask a question but it never comes as the answer becomes obvious when Lysithea settles between the pale expanse of her legs.

Edelgard’s nightgown is truly a work of art, the simplicity of its style hiding the quality of the material. A soft and light fabric imported from Brigid that’s fit for an emperor. Not that Lysithea spends much time admiring it once she’s hiked it over Edelgard’s waist. Her eyes are understandably drawn elsewhere, to the glistening folds between Edelgard’s legs. Like Lysithea, Edelgard is bare underneath her nightgown and if asked she would likely cite the summer heat as the reason — certainly it wasn’t for her wife’s benefit.

There are faded marks on Edelgard’s inner thighs. Lysithea happily refreshes them and adds a few for good measure. A gallery of Lysithea’s devotion emerges as she inches slowly to where Edelgard desperately wants her. Just when it seems Lysithea will have mercy on her, she changes tactics to suck at the skin near her hipbone.

“Lysithea, _please_.”

Ah, how nice it is to hear Edelgard beg.

Cruelty isn’t Lysithea’s intention. When Edelgard asks for what she wants, she’s happy to oblige. She kisses the wet folds between Edelgard’s legs with the reverence they deserve. Edelgard gasps at the contact and her thighs rise to quiver around Lysithea’s head.

The taste of Edelgard is intoxicating. Lysithea can’t get enough of it. She sucks on Edelgard’s clit and relishes in the way it makes Edelgard’s hips buck up. To be able to make Edelgard feel this way is a special kind of pleasure for Lysithea. She’s probably as wet as Edelgard from it. She pays careful attention to the way Edelgard’s breath turns ragged as she uses her mouth to lick and suck at her. The best reward to her efforts is when Edelgard grows desperate and grinds against Lysithea’s mouth, seeking friction on her clit. The wet sounds of her cunt feel obscenely loud, made louder by Edelgard’s relative quietness, even as Lysithea brings her to fruition. She clenches her legs around Lysithea’s head as she comes and Lysithea takes it as a sign not to let up in her efforts, only stopping when Edelgard grabs at her hair to pull her off with a final wet plop.

“Still think I’m adorable?” Lysithea asks, knowing she must look quite a sight with her hair mussed and her lips and chin shinning from Edelgard’s wetness.

The unimpressed glare Edelgard gives her in return isn’t very formidable thanks to her heaving chest and wild hair. Outwardly, Lysithea pretends to be smug but inwardly she’s overcome with affection for the woman in front of her.

Scars litter Edelgard’s body that an uninformed eye would assume are from the war but Lysithea knows better. She has a matching set after all. In the past, Lysithea saw her scars as a reminder of all that she lost: the children of Ordelia who died so she could live, her shortened lifespan a deadline marked on her skin. She doesn’t feel that way anymore. Her scars are the proof of her survival. Hers _and_ Edelgard’s. If it wasn’t for Edelgard’s relentless efforts, Lysithea would be long past her expiration date.

Edelgard pulls her up for kiss. She wraps her legs around Lysithea and flips them over, Lysithea on her back as Edelgard presses her into their bed. Soft breasts push against her as Edelgard seemingly tries to merge their bodies — an impossible feat but Lysethia doesn’t mind her trying.

A deft finger slips inside Lysithea’s cunt and it’s Edelgard’s turn to look smug as Lysithea cries out at the contact. She’s not the quiet type like Edelgard — much to her eternal embarrassment. She’s glad the imperial apartments are mercifully secluded or she would insist Edelgard close the veranda doors out of mortification (unfortunately, she’s long had to accept there’s nothing that can be done about the guards outside their rooms).

“More,” Lysithea demands, only it’s not a demand so much as it’s a breathless plea.

Edelgard at least has the sense not to tease her. Lysithea is past the point where she can tolerate it. She’s so wet from earlier there’s no resistance as a second finger follows the first. The loud whine Lysithea lets out has her shielding her face in embarrassment.

“None of that now.” Edelgard uses her free hand to gently tug Lysithea’s away, leaving Lysithea with nowhere to look at but her.

Edelgard looks at her like no one else ever has — with a sense of unrestrained desire. The simple truth of it eases Lysithea’s embarrassment. Edelgard _wants her_.

It’s nice to be wanted.

“Good girl.”

Lysithea clenches around her. She’s right at that edge and with Edelgard’s unwavering gaze still upon her, she reaches it at last.

She’s not quiet when she comes and her short nails dig into Edelgard’s arms harshly enough to leave half-moon impressions. Still, Edelgard never looks away and her fingers fuck Lysithea until she’s crying out in oversensitivity.

“Enough,” Lysithea gasps. The curtains at the veranda sway in the wind.

Edelgard takes her hand back and kisses Lysithea’s forehead. “I feel I must inform you that you’re still adorable even when—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Lysithea shrieks, feeling wonderfully content as Edelgard curls up beside her.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @imoshen on twitter but i'm actually mostly a dimilix tweetbot these days lmaooo


End file.
